Steadfast(86)

“Afraid so.” He studied her so intently that she could no longer feel the cold. “But—if I might beg one favor—would you allow me one moment out of time?”

Verlaine took a deep breath, then nodded.

Asa clapped his hands together, and time came to a stop. Snowflakes hovered in all around them, frozen in place, making the whole world sparkle softly. He walked toward her, feet crunching on the snow now, because it couldn’t melt without time, even though she could feel the heat of him coming closer. Then Asa took her in his arms.

The kiss was her first. Her only. Verlaine hadn’t expected to react like this—going hot and cold at once, forgetting everything else, allowing every thought in her mind to slip away until she didn’t know anyone or anything besides Asa. His mouth opened against hers, and she would have cried out, except that the sound was muffled by his kiss. Her arms slid around his waist as his hands came up to cradle her face.

So warm, she thought in a daze. Like we’re in the heart of a fire.

Even though she knew this could never be, she couldn’t be sad. Couldn’t be angry. Verlaine’s entire heart sang with happiness, and that happiness felt like the only thing that had ever been true.

They broke apart. She gasped for breath. Asa looked nearly as shaken as she felt. For a long moment neither of them could speak. Then he pulled back his hands and brought them together; time began again, and the snow resumed its gentle, swirling descent.

Asa’s thumb brushed against her cheek, drawing a soft arc of heat. He whispered, “Kill me if you can.”

And then he was gone—almost faster than the eye could see.

Once again she stood alone, the hospital still several minutes’ walk away. She stared down at the bare places where he’d melted the snow, but the fresh flakes were already erasing those traces as though they’d never been.

Mateo’s dad was still too nervous about the “seizure” to let Mateo mop the floors; that was pretty much it for a silver lining. But he still had to help out as La Catrina prepared to reopen. Today he was more or less alone in front, replacing the fall menu inserts with the ones for winter.

As he sat in one of the booths, patiently getting through the tedious job, he heard the front-door bells jingle. “Sorry, still closed,” he called out—then saw that it was Faye Walsh standing at the door.

“Bad time?” she said.

“Uh, no.” Though he was caught off-guard, Mateo decided to seize the moment. “Listen, you know Nadia only turned to Elizabeth because she had to.”

“Yes.” Faye walked closer. “But I also know she turned to Elizabeth, and that’s not a path you turn back from.”

“Don’t doubt her. Nadia’s stronger than you realize.”

“Evil is stronger than you realize. But we’re lucky, Mateo. There’s more to being a Steadfast than seeing magic, or helping our witches. More to it than even most witches know.”

Hope sprang up inside him. “Do we have magic of our own?” That would explain what had happened with Gage, surely.

But Faye shook her head. “That’s not how it works. We have one power more valuable than any other, Mateo. We can make our witches stronger. But we also can be the only check on a witch’s power. A witch’s Steadfast can be the only thing between her and ultimate darkness.”

He remembered the powerful spells in her mother’s Book of Shadows. “Is that what you had to do?”

Faye didn’t answer. “If I teach you the way to weaken Nadia’s powers—to destroy them—will you do it?”

A Steadfast could do that? Mateo had never dreamed that could even be possible. To destroy Nadia’s power . . .

“No,” he said. “I won’t.”

Faye smiled then, and somehow the expression was kind. “There might come a point when she’d wish you had.”

“I trust Nadia. I believe in her.”

“I know you do.” She patted his shoulder before heading back to the door. “But if you change your mind—”

The bells jingled, and she was gone. Mateo sat there for a long moment. He knew he would never turn on Nadia, no matter what.

But if he had to kill Elizabeth to save Nadia—if he had to become a murderer, risk his own soul the way Nadia was risking hers—he could do it.

Across town, a few hours later, Nadia made her own journey on foot.

Her family had done their Thanksgiving meal at lunchtime. Since the elementary-school pageant had never occurred due to bird interference, Cole had given his mashed-potato speech to her and Dad; they’d applauded while he took his bows. Since the quarantine hadn’t lifted in time to get makings for the traditional turkey and stuffing, they’d improvised based on what she’d been able to find in the back corners of the pantry. If pad thai wasn’t a proper Thanksgiving meal, well, it ought to be.

In every way, her day had seemed totally normal. Everyone was in a better mood now that the sick had gotten well, and now that people could go in and out of town freely. Cole would have nightmares about birds for a long time to come, but he was doing okay, she thought, and Dad was in better spirits than he’d been all month. Nadia had smiled and pretended to celebrate along with them, but inside her heart was dying.

Every moment, she longed for Mateo. Every hour, she wanted to be with him. They still texted each other and spoke on the phone—that much was okay—but Nadia knew she had to stay away as much as possible. Just a few days in, and already that burden seemed unbearable.